


Recurrences

by ange__enchante



Category: The OC
Genre: First Time, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 19:10:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10973562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ange__enchante/pseuds/ange__enchante
Summary: Seth is relieved to see that Ryan is still around the next morning.





	Recurrences

Rolling over on my back, I am assaulted by the large amount of light currently making its way through my half open curtains. 

 

Shielding my eyes against the offending rays, I manage to make out the numbers on my alarm clock. 

 

7:30 PM

 

Damn, I must have slept through the entire day. 

 

Well, at least it seems like an effective way to get over a hangover, my head doesn’t hurt anymore and the floor has stopped reeling. I get up and make my way out of the bed, slowly in case my hangover decides to rear its ugly head once again. 

 

The sound of a TV makes its way into my room. Dad must be home, mom never watches television. 

 

Not bothering with shoes, or with changing out of my pajamas for that matter, I make my way down the dark hallway and into the living room surprised to find, not Dad there, but Ryan sitting in front of the Playstation engrossed in one of my games. 

 

Something must have happened or mom must have changed her mind. I vaguely remember waiting for Ryan to leave before going to the kitchen and yelling at my mother for the first time in what must be years. 

 

She seemed tired, not even bothering to put real authority behind her voice as she explained why Ryan had to go back to his house. It sounded as if she were repeating the words for her benefit more than mine, as if she wasn’t sure that her decision had been the right one. I’ve never seen my mother waver before, at least not when she’s in her ‘mother protecting her cub’ mode, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. 

 

I take the opportunity to just look at him like I wanted to do all day yesterday. 

 

Watching him sit there, doing something that has occupied many hours of my uneventful life, it dawns on me why my mother encourages me to stay here and submerge myself within my games, while dad always wants me to go outside and ‘explore’ the world. Sitting there on the floor, Ryan is safe. As long as he’s there, Ryan is mine and no one can hurt him. 

 

Mine? Possessive much? I try to shake the thoughts out of my head, then resume looking at him. 

 

He looks different and it takes me a moment to realize what it is. He looks relaxed, comfortable, nothing liked the caged beast that he seemed at the fashion show last night. 

 

That all changes when I open my big mouth and say, “Back so soon?” His shoulders immediately contract, gathering that tension that for a moment I had seen him shed. Damn me. 

 

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to use your Playstation without your permission. Sandy said that I could use it and I didn’t want to wake you.” He rambles out, as if afraid that I’m going to run over and snatch it from him. 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, moving closer and dropping down to sit on the floor beside him. 

 

If I can’t play the part of the omnipresent observer, I might as well sit down and enjoy his presence, his warmth. 

 

“What happened to mom and dad?” I ask after a moment, wondering at the relative silence of the house. 

 

“They had to go to some business dinner or something. Dinner’s in the oven,” he supplied not really meeting my eyes and once again I wonder what horrible thing must have happened to make mom change her mind. 

 

I turn back to the screen, watching as he fights monsters, waving away his offers to change to a game that we can both play. 

 

“Damn,” he says, dropping the control in defeat as he’s conquered by the same creature for the third time. 

 

“Here,” I offer moving closer to him, “there’s a special move you can use if you know the right combination of moves that will increase your power meter.” 

 

My hands move to the controller, and I ignore how he flinches when I come near him, to point out the combination of buttons. 

 

“See?” I ask, glancing up only to find myself looking into his eyes. 

 

Before I can will my body to stop, not that I would have anyway, my eyes are closing and I am leaning towards him, almost falling into his lap as my lips press against his. 

 

I suddenly freeze, Ryan’s lips are still beneath mine and I start to move back. I get about half an inch of distance between us before a pair of hands reach out and cup my face, dragging me back to Ryan and pulling me further onto him as he crushes his lips against mine. 

 

I let him roll us over as I open my mouth, something that I once heard I should do, and am mildly surprised when his tongue slides in, his lips kissing me with such intensity that I swear I will have bruises tomorrow. 

 

My hands move over his body as if they have a will of their own, pulling him closer to me. 

 

I shift slightly when my hands come to rest on his ass and my hip suddenly comes into contact with something hard. 

 

Ryan pulls back, as if afraid of my reaction, even though he must to feel my painfully aroused cock digging into his side. 

 

“Seth?” he asks softly, and I pull him back down not allowing him to leave, tugging at the end of his shirt so that I can slide my hands up and onto his chest. 

 

He lets out a hiss against my lips as my cold hands meet his warm skin and his hands move down to my shirt slowly pushing it up until it lies next to us on the floor. 

 

My hands travel back down his chest to the top of his pants, my fingers finding the button and beginning to undo the jeans. Ryan pushes back, stilling my hands and positioning us so that I am lying next to him looking at his eyes. 

 

“Are you sure?” he asks softly, and I can hear the fear in his voice and see the uncertainty in his eyes. 

 

“I want you,” I respond and mentally slap myself at the forwardness of my words. 

 

You don’t know what you’re doing, the words bounce around in my head. You’ve only known him for two days! 

 

I don’t care. I want him. He’s the only person I’ve actually talked to in months, maybe years, and who knows how long it will be before some one tries to take him away. 

 

“I don’t know how,” I say, and want to hit myself for the words, but they had to be said, he had to know. 

 

“I’ll show you,” he whispers pulling me closer. 

 

“I don’t have anything,” a silent confession. 

 

“We’ll find something.” 

 

I let him pull me up, take my hand as he leads me to the kitchen. He drops a soft kiss on my lips before leaving me alone against the counter as he searches the cupboards for something. 

 

Finally finding what he needed, he turns showing me the bottle of lotion my mother keeps for after she washes the dishes and I will myself not to show the fear coursing through me. 

 

He comes towards me and I turn him around, pushing him against the counter, not leaving him room for escape, as I divest him of his shirt. 

 

My hands roam down until they’re once again at his pants, continuing to undo them before pushing them down on the floor. 

 

Ryan kicks off his shoes and steps out of the jeans, shoving them away before kissing me again. 

 

I feel his hands move to the waistband of my drawstring pants and I have to concentrate on not coming as his hands come dangerously near my straining erection. 

 

He pushes them down along with my boxers, exposing me completely and I close my eyes to avoid his expression, a blush creeping across my skin. 

 

They spring back open a moment later when he wraps one hand around my cock and begins to pump lazily. 

 

I feel his hot breath against my ear as he leans in to whisper, “I want you inside me.” 

 

Although I thought it impossible, I grew harder, a moan escaping my lips. His hand moves from its spot on my hip and up to my arm. 

 

Thoughts start forming where before there were only random words expressing my desire, and it occurs to me that we’re just using each other. I’m using him for sex, a warm responsive body that would rather kiss me than punch me, and he’s using me for shelter, as another ally within this house. 

 

But then he grabs my hand, holding the palm gently before bringing my fingers to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss against it before slicking them with lotion, and I know that my thoughts were lies. This isn’t about gain. 

 

I look at his hands holding mine. They’re nice. His hands. Long fingered and strong, although the jagged shortness of his nails belie some nervous aspect of his personality that I have yet to encounter. 

 

I push away the rest of my thoughts, as he pulls me in for another kiss and hooks one leg around me.

 

Slowly, I move my hand down his back until it comes to rest on his ass. I stop, looking into his eyes, which are staring at me with a mixture of trust and fear. 

 

I kiss him again, hoping to at least alleviate some of his fears as I gently part cheeks. I pause a moment to think on what I am about to do, before slipping my finger into him. 

 

He tightens reflexively but after a moment he’s relaxed and instructed me to move the finger in and out. 

 

I follow his directions, and soon he’s pushing himself down on my hand as I slip both fingers in and out of his puckered opening. 

 

“In me, now,” he moans against my neck and I remove my hand, grabbing his hips as he wraps his other leg around me while propping himself up against the counter. 

 

I look into his eyes, silently praying to any and all entities that this won’t be like every encounter he’s bound to have had in his life. That I won’t hurt him like everyone else obviously has. 

 

I align myself against his opening and push in, listening for any sounds that would betray any pain that I might be causing him and fully sheathing myself within him when I hear none. 

 

I stop, my face buried in his hair praying for him to tell me that it’s ok, that I haven’t hurt him. 

 

Without a word he starts moving and I can’t bite back the moans that burst from me as I feel his velvet-like warmth surround me. 

 

I tentatively reach down between us and grab him, marveling at how different he is from me before commencing to stroke him to our clumsy rhythm. 

 

I brush against something within him and he bites down on my shoulder and I still my movements. 

 

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” God please, don’t let me have hurt him, please. 

 

He smiles then pulls me in for a kiss. “No, it felt good,” he reassures me before urging me to continue.

 

I hit that spot again, deliberately this time, realizing that it was not pain but pleasure that made him moan. He involuntarily clamps down around my cock and I spill myself within him, not able to hold back my release and somewhat surprised that I have lasted this long. 

 

I pull out of him, tightening my hold on his shaft and pump harder, seeking to push him over the edge. 

 

He finds his release moments later moaning something that sounded surprisingly like my name. 

 

He moves his head up from its resting place on my shoulder and I meet his eyes. 

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cum so-” but he stops my apology by brushing his lips against mine once more. 

 

Looking down, I take in our cum splashed stomach and grab his hand. 

 

He looks at me, surprise written all over his features but allows me to lead him back through the house, assembling our clothes and turning off the TV, as we make our way to the bathroom. 

 

He doesn’t say a word as I drag him in, turning the water on and washing away the remains of our night together. 

 

When we step out of the shower, I watch him towel off then disentangle his clothing from mine before attempting to move out of the room and back to the pool house. 

 

It occurs to me that I want to see him in my bed, cocooned within my sheets with me where no one can hurt him because he’s mine and I won’t let him get hurt again. 

 

He seems surprised when I ask him to stop, handing him a pair of my pajamas as I don a new set. 

 

He looks even more startled when I ask him to stay, lifting up the covers in invitation. He seems to falter, suspicion clouding his face and I wonder what kind of world he could have lived in that made him see suspicion in such a harmless gesture. 

 

Eventually he gives in, dropping his clothes next to mine as he moves across the room and slides into the bed, his warm body pressing against mine. 

 

“But your parents?” he asks quietly as I drape my arm across him and rest my head on his shoulder. 

 

“They’ll be too drunk to look in on us. And in case it happens, which it never has, I’ll just say you fell asleep while we were looking through my CD collection or something,” I murmur as I idly play with the hem of his shirt. 

 

“But?” he motions to my current position, twined around him. 

 

“I’ll tell them I had a hot dream about Summer and thought you were her. No one’s ever doubted that story before, not even you.” 

 

He laughs against my hair and I decide that I like the sound. 

 

I wish that I could read his mind, figure out who’s done this to him, who’s made him so jaded and beat them to a bloody pulp like in one of my games. 

 

“Does this mean that I get a boat named after me?” he asks, snapping me out of my thoughts and I look up to find amusement in his eyes. 

 

“Well, I only have the one and I don’t think Ryan’s breeze works all that well,” I answer, smiling into his shoulder. 

 

“Your car then. Whenever you get one, I expect it to be named Ryan,” he retorts and I smile up at him. 

 

“We’ll see what I can work out.”


End file.
